Marine had seen his share of IED casualties in Afghanistan, then he became one

Edwards jumps into the crater. He straps a tourniquet on one of Raaz’s legs, then the other, pulling tight through the clip and screwing it down.

The machine gunner helps drag Raaz from the water and apply two more tourniquets to his thighs, just to be sure. The Marines are quick but thorough, knowing he could bleed to death within a few minutes.

While they work, Raaz tries to call in his own casualty report. He can’t get all the information out on the radio, but he keeps barking orders. "Make sure the tourniquets are tight! Watch for secondary IEDs! Push out security!" he says.

When Weed gets to Raaz’s side, he grips his hand. “Hey brother, you’re going to be all right,” he says. “The bird’s on the way.”

Raaz looks at his friend and says, “Weed, I’ll still beat you at a PFT (physical fitness test.)”

The quip reminds them why Raaz was so good at his job. “A lead-from-the-front type of guy, no matter what, even with his legs blown off,” Weed later recalls.

The Marines pull off Raaz’s body armor and take his radio. They carry him on a stretcher to the landing zone. It is mid-day, and hot, so they pour water on him to cool him.

About 20 minutes after he is wounded, the adrenaline begins to wear off. The pain spikes, and Raaz starts to slip into shock. It feels like his body is on fire. "More morphine, more," he demands of the Navy hospital corpsman, his panic rising.